Page 65 of Inarticulate

“Get out,” she seethed.

The doors began to close and her throat restricted with his lack of movement. They stared each other down, Keenan’s determination matching her frustration as they ascended in silence. She hated the emotion he laid bare for her—the fake, manipulative emotion that encouraged her into this mess in the first place.

The interest in his eyes wasn’t real. The concerned furrow of his brow was fraudulent.

The elevator dinged its deafening trill of arrival and she backtracked into the hall, her gaze never leaving his. He remained poised, so arrogant leaning against that wall.

Once safely outside, she turned. Fled. She made two steps before she shivered at the sound of his accompanying footfalls. “You’re not coming into my room.” He couldn’t. She wouldn’t allow it. Memories already daunted her. They’d shared too much in that bed.

“Don’t follow me, Keenan.” She marched harder down the hall, trying to gain a lead, but he was right there, his longer, stronger legs eating up any space she made.

Damn him, and damn her for being so susceptible to whatever it was that made her addicted to his existence. Dominic had warned her. Penny had threatened her. And still she’d wound up in a mess of infatuation she never should’ve become involved in.

She yanked her room card from her pocket and slammed it against the locking device. There was a buzz, a gratifying blink of a green light, and then she was shoving the door open, her heart thankful for the awaiting sanctuary.

“Goodbye, Keenan.” She slunk inside, and quickly pushed to close the door.

Instead of shutting him out, the glossy wood opened further under the heavy press of his palm. He stood before her, an undeniable force, a mask of superiority.

“Please,” she begged. “Don’t.”

She backtracked, unable to maintain the close proximity between them as he stalked toward her. Her limbs were trembling, especially her hand as she raised it to stab a finger toward the exit in a silent attempt to tell him to go.

He ignored her, the door drifting shut behind him, closing them in together. His approach continued, increasing the rapid pound in her chest and the tumbling roll of her belly. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“I’m not playing games.Get out.”

His focus drifted to the bed, to the suitcase ready and waiting. His eyebrows pulled tight, his lips, too, as he narrowed his attention back on her and shook his head. “No.”

He reached for her luggage and grasped the zipper.

“What the hell are you doing?” She watched in shocked fascination as he unzipped her case and pulled out a stack of her clothes. “Stop it.”

Keeping her distance was imperative, for her heart and her self-preservation, but what the heck was she expected to do when he was unpacking her belongings and stalking back down the hall to place them in the tiny closet?

“Keenan.” Her voice was more hesitant than she would’ve liked.

He didn’t stop, his presence taking over the entire room as his hands manipulated her clothes. With painful fortitude, he was doing everything she refused to admit she wanted. He was fighting for her attention, demanding she listen, insisting she stay.

Just watching him was encouraging her surrender…or maybe it was the alcohol making her pliant.

Stupid wine.

Either way, every inch of her was out of control, every nerve highly attuned to his movements.

“You made a fool out of me.” She was fighting against herself, broadcasting the obvious, not to remind him, but to remind her. “You humiliated me.”

He paused at the foot of the bed and the harshness of his expression didn’t change. Nothing wavered except his eyes. The deep, smoky depths turned somber. Almost apologetic. He changed his course and stepped toward her, those strong hands and legs and arms approaching.

“Stop.” There was nowhere left to run. She was already cowering near the window. “Just stop.”

He didn’t.

She shoved at his chest, and the hardness of muscle beneath her palm wrought havoc on her senses. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just leave me alone? Why did you show interest in me to begin with?”

She needed to hear his words. To have something other than sterile pieces of paper slammed down between them.

“I don’t know,” he mouthed with a slow shake of his head. He inched closer, those beautiful lips descending to cause irreparable damage.

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